She kisses him back with what strength she has, closing her eyes. He's hurting, she can tell, and she wants to help him, to heal him, to comfort him. To seek her own help, healing, comfort from him as well. He needs her, and she needs him.

She lifts the hand on his wrist to his waist, inviting a flare of pain as the muscles pull up her arm to the stitched wound. She doesn't care, she wants to hold him, as well as she can.